


Anger Management

by Minion_Energon_101



Series: TF2 Freakshow Stories [2]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alcohol, Anger, Anger Management, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Depression, Gen, Heavy Angst, Prison, Regret, Sensory Deprivation, Starvation, TF2 Freaks, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-17 13:52:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16975806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minion_Energon_101/pseuds/Minion_Energon_101
Summary: In Evo City's HECU base, Freaks that harm the city are housed here upon capture. One such catch is Madic, an ex-medic who murders based upon his unpredictable bursts of anger.And now he's hit rock bottom, refusing food and barely drinking water. Orangeman watches mournfully -- as an old teammate of Madic's -- as he shrivels away in Anger Management.





	Anger Management

**Author's Note:**

> ° Madic's description can be found here: http://tf2freakshow.wikia.com/wiki/Madic  
> ° Orangeman's description can be found here: http://tf2freakshow.wikia.com/wiki/Orangeman
> 
> This is set after "Soldine vs. Madic" but before "Enemies of Old" and "Operation: HECU Correctional Facility". So, yeah. Check them out to understand this story first! Or don't... But I recommend it! :)

Anticipation. Adrenaline. And, anxiety.  
  
Worry. Nervousness. Unease.  
  
Pity.  
  
_This place_.  
  
Anger.  
  
Madic looked down at his a gloved hands with deep thought. He flexed his fingers as he waited for his counselor to arrive to work, finding his fingers stiff from gripping the arm of the chair too long. He looked around the bright lit room and noticed some materials his counselor must have left behind in his haste to get home before their show came on last night.  
  
Madic tried not to think about it. Tried not to think of anything from the outside world he once thought trivial, and now would crave simply for stimulus.  
  
Madic tapped his chairs arms in anticipation as time crawled around him like a Spy lying in wait. He couldn't tell what day it was anymore, and he could barely tell if it the sun was out anymore from being locked in a cell for so long. He used to be able to tell when night fell and when the sun rose by the changing of the guards in his cell block. But when two guards started complaining about the numbers of hours they worked and how many of them died in a month, the shifts became erratic along with the people who'd visit him. Some guards were nicer than others, like Ruben and his long talks about the outside world... even if it was mostly the rising political party HECU didn't want to see in power. Some guards were neutral, doing their job and leaving when they were supposed to and ignoring Madic and the drunk Demo freak that always blubbered in the cell across from him. And some guards caused Madic to spring in his cell like an enraged monster in how bad they treated him, usually causing a team of guards to come in and tase him if he didn't settle down.  
  
Madic was sure the only reason he could understand English anymore is because of these guards and his counselor, and he hated and feared the fact he couldn't seem to muster his own conversations anymore in German. Maybe his brain was simply fried from all the chemical abuse he performed on himself, maybe his brain saw his native German as a hindrance to his situation and simply hid it away. He gripped his chair harder, feeling uneasy and nervous in the large monitoring room that served as his chamber for anger management.  
  
He jumped out of his thoughts, and his skin, when the giant metal door that separated him from the human staff opened up. A person, clumsy and in the ugliest winter sweater Madic has seen to date, stumbled in with a cloth bag and the biggest smile they could muster.  
  
"Sorry, sorry!" They said and slipped on one of their loafers that had got caught in the door, dancing to put their shoe back on.  
  
After they entered, two guards came in after the counselor, making the rooms calm demeanor turn serious when they stood at either side of the door, guns at the ready in their hands.  
  
Madic had long gotten used to the procedure and shifted in his seat as the counselor settled in their seat across from him. The bag hit the floor and Madic cast a glance at it. The cloth bag was large and brimming with tools to help him in whatever therapy method they had today. On top was a stack of ink blot papers and a unmarked leather bound book Medic couldn’t make out very well. A diary, perhaps? He glanced back at his partner, and his face shifting in annoyance.  
  
"What took you so long?" Madic hissed, glaring at the person as they digged in their bag. "Your usually more professional."  
  
"Sorry, I just had the longest night." They said cheerily, pulling out a clipboard and a green pencil. "That show I was talking about, remember? The power went out at my house and I went to a friends not too far away to watch it, and I fell asleep on their couch by accident..."  
  
They trailed off to laugh and Madic felt his lip twitch downwards. He was never in a good mood, he was the _Mad_ ic for a reason. His blood pressure shot up at random intervals just by looking around and being able to think about stuff. It wasn’t that he hated certain things, but it was just in his nature to find find the bad in everything. That fueled the fire of his already existing emotions and personality and caused him extreme amounts of rage. Or so his counselor says. They said a lot of things to him and sometimes about him while he’s in the same room. It’s taxing not to _rip them to shreds_ for it.

The counselor jotted down something after his response to their story and Madic heart jumped in their chest. Wait, they were already starting this? Okay, they were getting down to business today.

The person's smile wavered a bit and put the clipboard and pencil down, the pencil laying strategically over whatever they had written on the bold black line. Now that got Madic paranoid, had they made that up to test him? It wouldn’t be the first time HECU played him, and certainly was not the last, but Madic hated it when they tricked him or ran experiments on his well-being. That’s what this person was here for, after all, so why ruin it by causing distrust between the doctor and the patient. Or so they say, Madic had no idea if this person was even a real doctor and not a random friendly guy off the street they just employed to fool him...

His body must have given away some signals at his heightened state of tension, for the counselor raised both hands gently onto the table to show they weren’t going to do anything. “Woah! I’m simply recording the time, I swear.”

Madic flexed his hands on the arms of the chair, feeling stupid and flustered from his accusation. The counselor lifted up the pencil and, indeed, it showed a time and date on it. Madic's face flushed even harder, his eyes looking at the table in dismay.

The counselor didn’t let him stew for long as they smiled sheepishly at him. “It’s my fault, sorry. I forgot your paranoia, my friend.”

“We’re not friends.” The ex-doctor sneered and straightened himself in his seat. He didn’t like being patronized, sure he had anger issues or whatever, but that gave nobody the right to just pity him. He was capable of amazing feats.

“I see.” The counselor said and pulled their gloves off slowly. “And I assume you are not referring to me as a doctor either, still…?”

“You are correct.” Madic said and kneaded his nails into the seat’s arm. Of course he wouldn’t, because this man was no actual doctor.

“All right then, let’s get started, then.” The gloves went into the bag and out came the images of his previous crime scenes. He could tell by the label on the folder that read "Madic" and a list of numbers. Oh _god dammit._

* * *

Orangeman watched with his cup of coffee as Madic rolled his eyes at the images and therapist in front of him. He watched as the Freak, strapped to the chair from his feet to his arms, slowly watched as the man flipped through the pages and tried to get a response out of his patient. Orangeman knew these tactics, it was a remorse tactic to see if the Freak was sentient and capable of changing, and Madic was proving himself uncooperative by staring right through the images he was show. The giant metal room he was in was being monitored by six scientists and seven guards, including the ones inside the room, and he was still being recalcitrant.

Orangeman drank a bit of his coffee-Scrumpy concoction and watched as the Freak made a very pissed off face at a certain picture, turning away. The monitored conversation picked up the ex-doctor saying that wasn’t anything he’d done, and processed to not look at the picture until another one covered it up. The therapist jotted something down and continued on from there, sliding pictures into view to get a reaction. Orangeman’s coffee-alcohol mixture tasted bitter in his own mouth as the Freak looked pissed again and said that was not his doing again.

Bloody hell, what were they showing him? And what was this kind of exercise?

A scientist to his right twisted a nob and the demolitions expert heard the sound of a machine beeping in rapid bursts and papers rustling. He followed the noise, and found a heart monitor off to the side with Madic’s prisoner number and class type on it, beeping faster than usual with the scientist writing something down as they watched it. A small machine under it was writing lines after lines on a piece of paper and had the same colored wires as the ones leading into the wall and into the girdle around the Madic’s abdomen and arm strap.

A polygraph, what the hell? He heard of interrogations going like this, but what were they even doing with this information? Madic was in here for anger management, why was he hooked up to a polygraph? He’s both glad and upset he wasn’t a scientist to get to understand what they were doing to the Freak.

He watched on, sipping his drink, as Madic was questioned and shown images for some reason. The mercenary either answered with a humm, grunt, or a declaration that it was not him who did that. It almost reminded Orangeman of those tests in the optometrist when they ask which on of the two lenses you can see better out of, but far more scary and surreal.

Once the final picture came up, the therapists hesitating with this one, Madic’s eyes roamed the page like a man who recognized something in the picture but couldn’t place his finger on it. He stared through this picture like he did with the many others and Orangemen was almost keen on leaving the man to do his therapy before the ex-doctor grunted in his throat, almost like a wounded animal and tried to shift away.

Over the monitor, he heard, “I’ve never heard that before.”

“Shut up.” Was all that answered them.

The therapist turned the picture around and looked at it themselves, ignoring what Madic had just told them. “What’s wrong with this picture? Is it… the bodies? As a doctor, I don’t think you’d be squeamish, maybe it’s something else…”

“You know _damn well_ what’s the problem.” The Freak hissed and pulled at the restrains on the chair, making it whine in protest. All the machines inside the room with Orangeman started to beep louder and faster, the scientist scrambling. “Tell me, what is that photo? Why are you showing me these? I don’t know anything… I’ve been stuck _here_ for god knows how long.”

Orangeman saw the guards in the room train their guns on the Freaks body, their laser sights putting a small red dot between the Freaks eyes to scare him. Orangeman knew they wouldn’t, they hadn't actually needed to kill a Freak in so long and he’d be damned to find out if Madic can regenerate, much less _die_. There was no way they’d shot him without repercussions.

The monitor spoke up again. “You don’t remember these places? These people?”

Madic scoffed again. “If your going to tell me I did every single one of these, I don’t want to hear it. I am not going to apologize and I am not going to tell you how I feel, I am not telling you anything. I’ve had enough of this pseudo-science experiment and…”

“This was a baby Madic.” The therapist said, looking at one of the photos in the pile before showing it, Madic sliding as far away from it now as he can. “On one of your rampages…”

Orangeman wanted to spit out his coffee and run. He was half-scared they were going to show him a picture like they were showing Madic, and was about to run away from it. Orangeman saw a lot of things dealing with Freaks in Evo City, having a large population of humans in such a small area meant you were bound to see something new everyday if a Freak came along. But Orangeman had never been on one of those missions to send help to those in a crisis, he was sent with Soldine to deal with the monster ruining lives. He’s never actually seen much of dead children and babies, and would like to keep it that way.

How could Madic do such a thing? Orangeman all of a sudden didn’t know what he was feeling. It was a swarm of discernable emotions, and he felt a little woozy just standing there. Should he appeal to have Madic removed from therapy and into confinement? He felt that was too rash, Madic was clearly recoiling from the photos but...

A small gag of disgust sounded across the monitor. “Stop, I know what it is.” Madic barked, slipping back like a kicked dog baring its fangs. “Your chalk out lines and the clothing gave that away…”

“We have the photos of the family, here” The therapist pulled out two more and Madic looked less startled by these, but with no less revolution. “These are the…”

The therapist was cut off by Madic who was speaking softer now, “The parents, yes. I can tell.”

“Yes?” The therapist said, and shuffled the pictures around so Madic could see them all. “These are all taken from crime scenes off the mountain you lived on. I’m sorry I had to show you these, really. I never want to do this to any of my patients, it's a travesty and a low blow.”

“But it's your job. And their monitoring me.” Madic said and looked away. His eyes trained on the guards who had seemingly backed up back into their places at the door. “And your still not a doctor.”

The room was silent, all but a fan was quiet and still, and finally, the therapist sighed. Through the monitor, Orangeman heard the therapists sigh and put all the papers into a cream colored folder before pulling out a book with stickers hanging out of it as bookmarks. “Alright. We’ll continue as usual from here.”

“As normal as me wearing a girdle and wires?” Madic asked and let his back slump, he must be trying to mess with the readings to be cheeky, lowering the tension.

“As normal as always.” The therapist said and opened up the book with a loud pop of the cover.

Orangeman saw the two begin to do something in the book and Madic listen as the therapist droned on. The Freak was a sight to just stare at sometimes; greying skin and mysterious darker grey patches over veins you can see through his light colored skin, irises almost a pale and dull blue that seemed to disappear into a sickly green-white when he went berserk, his eyes were bloodshot around the rims, and his teeth are pasty white and felt like you were watching a horror movie villain with their stainless teeth. Does this man look like he could kill a helpless family? _Yes._ But does Orangeman know enough about this man now to feel remorse, pity, and reluctance to give up his treatment. _Maybe._

It was hard to tell. He wasn’t drunk enough yet to deal with most of his problems and his job right now. His coffee had cooled off a while ago, so he chugged it and the alcoholic contents down before it got cold.

Shit, it wasn’t enough. He felt seemingly still conscious enough to feel his growing panic grow even more. His thoughts were a bit jumbled but it wasn’t enough to deal with this kind of nonsense. He sat down on a swivel chair a scientist had evacuated earlier and pulled out an emergency flask of vodka. This was going to be a hard day to deal with.

He barely had a second to take a drink before the familiar silhouette of Soldine and a HECU officer stepped into the room. This wasn’t good. Orangeman let the liquid he had in his mouth slid down his throat swiftly as he looked up at the two, making eye contact with the correctional Officer alone as Soldine refused to shift his gaze from the door that Madic was housed behind.

“Mornin’, ye two.” Demoman waved and gave them a suspicious eyeing. “Wha’ brings ye down here while therapy’s happenin’?”

The correctional Officer let Orangeman stand up before addressing him firmly, and stiffly. “We’re here for the Madic, we’re taking him to the medical wing as per ordered by the Chief Medical Officer. I was hoping we’d find you before you were… intoxicated, to help us escort him.” The man ruffled his tie like it was some symbol to scare Orangeman into submission. Like hell it did.

“I’m fine, I can do meh job jus’ fine.” Orangeman said and stood next to the RED cyborg that was staring forward. “No need to run me away.”

The Officer didn’t seem convinced but allowed Soldine to address the operative in his metallic voice. “The Freak known as Madic has severely lost weight and is slowly dropping in performance. His recovery is to be halted this evening after the scientists have monitored how his lack of proper nutrients is effecting his body…”

Orangeman listed as Soldine started to list off what they were measuring for and felt his singular eye widen in shock. The bloody man was starving himself? Why? The Madic never seemed like a self-punishing type with all his fits of rage he’s had in his cell after a few rowdy guards made him go berserk. Orangeman went numb again, unable to process what he was hearing for a second before slowly growing more pity and sorrow for his ex-teammate. Oh _bloody_ hell.

“... blood pressure, heart health, durability, arousal…” Soldine continued on, but stopped as Orangeman started to let random blubbering out when he said the last word.

The Officer wasn’t having it today. “It means attentiveness, don’t be unprofessional.”

* * *

Madic looked at his hands in the binds of the chair and let the situations he had been in throughout his life, swallowing a bit of spit his mouth caused when he thought of a few things that started to make him angry. His counselor slowly let out their own breath and took a deep breath again across from him, teaching Madic how to control his breathing if he ever felt angry. Madic knew the biological factors getting angry made a person do; intense breathing, adrenaline, slowing of the non-fight or flight response systems, incoherent thought processes, and more; but he’d never been… in control long enough to not cause harm. Hell, most of the time, he fueled the anger subconsciously to make himself angry and to feel the power…

But still, to make something subconscious you had to have made yourself start doing it consciously and willingly. Madic didn’t know how to process that exactly, as he couldn’t remember being voluntarily angry, just _angry_ in the end.

He took a deep breath as he felt stressed and his blood pressure picked up, only soothing himself enough to remember what his counselor told him. Don’t think about what has brought you down… it's already done, and you can’t undo it. Just think of his eventual freedom, his eventual recover…

He took a deep breath once again, holding it a second as his mind raced again but with images of… just anything really. Things that didn’t mess with his current state. Solitary in the barn of Harvest in Fall with all of its crisp smells, the freedom of walking the streets again with no fear, a bed…

He just relaxed, holding his breath a bit longer...

And the air was scared out of his lungs as the door behind the counselor screeched open like an eerie horror movie door. The two soldiers stood at full attention and the newcomers all filed into the room by the doorframe. First came in a correctional Officer in his grey bulletproof vest and multi-purpose belt for handling Freaks, looking as bit of a mood ruiner as ever. Next came Soldine, the cyborg making the most annoying robotic noise as he moved with his shorter legs, much to Madic’s discomfort. Orangeman was next, the Scot wearing not his normal jumpsuit and armor but a two piece tracksuit and a simple bulletproof vest, suggesting he wasn’t on duty just yet.

The room was quiet all except for Madic’s rustling in his chair as the Officer looked at his counselor. It was awkward even after the officer began to speak, making the room more tense.

“We have already discussed why I’m here, counselor, and we’ll be taking your charge now.” The Officer said and the two soldier’s at the door marched on over to Madic, being rough as they undid the restraints around his body and chest.

The counselor, much to Madic’s current chagrin, simply put everything away and looked at Madic with the most regretful blank stare he had ever seen. This situation was not helping his rising blood pressure, and he felt light headed as well as they cuffed his wrists together and hefted him up onto his own two feet. He could stand under his own weight, but the blood rushing in his ears told him he was luck these men were basically dragging him by now.

“May I appeal to follow?” The counselor asked the Officer quietly as Madic was escorted out.

“You may.” The Officer stated and waited to leave the room until Soldine and Orangeman made meatshields in front of him to follow the escorted Freak. “But do not interfere.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.” The counselor sneered. “Sir.”

* * *

“My, my.” The CMO sang, clicking their tongue on the roof of their mouth as a reflex. “What  have you done to your body _this_ time, _mein freund_.”

Madic didn’t even glance at the doctor, because he couldn’t. His body was laid flat on his back and his limbs were spread out across the bed he was strapped down upon. Sure, the restraints weren’t made of metal and holding each limb like he was some criminal and were actually made of a hard rubber that simply held him at his waist and ankles to avoid him getting up, but it still felt weird. He had one of the rubber straps on his forehead and had let it stay there in place even if the CMO in the room didn’t care if he took it off. He just let it be for the sake of reason to just stare, and breath.

“I can understand the melanin drop in your pigmentation, as you’ve been locked inside for over two months. But I’m surprised at how you managed to change your tyrosinase enzymes in your eyes, very creative. Not only that, but whatever is swimming in your veins is very fascinating, if only I could get you to share your secrets…” The doctor continued, talking to the air wistfully. At least this guy can learn to take a hint after a while of bugging him and only getting his request denied. “I haven’t seen you personally since you got tazed two weeks into your stay, so I’m very glad to get to see you again… just not under these circumstances.”

Madic looked around the bright light above him and let his eyes adjust as the doctor bent down above him, his familiar looking face almost uncanny to his own. Madic will never fully understand, ever, how so many people in the same profession… ex-profession as him and look the same as him. But, that’s just one of those mysteries he’ll try to dig up when he’s…

… Free. _He’ll never be free,_  that’s the problem. It was hopeless to think like he was, it was…

He took a deep breath… and closed his eyes. Calm. He felt the rising pits of anger at his circumstance and let his breath go. He continued to fo this as he waited for it all to be over.

“I mean; your underweight and your water intake is below average, your obviously skipping meals or eating only wheat products, your stomach lining is normal but on the verge of shrinking…” The doctor said, accent thickening as he went. “I can’t believe they allowed you to get this bad. It’s not much: losing twelve pounds in a month, but 8 pounds is the most I will accept as healthy and you were the weight healthy for your age. But I’m sure we both know we can get you back in proper order in no time… but there is the lingering possibility of this happening again.”

“No, we’re slowly working on his mental health,” Madic heard his counselor near the edge of the room, and he was glad to hear a voice on his side for a change. “I just… didn’t spot the signs he wasn’t eating properly.”

“Of course you didn’t, its not your job to weigh him.” The Officer said in the corner of the room as well. “That’s our scientists job before your allowed to see him.”

“Yes,” the doctor agreed suspiciously, “the scientist who directly report to you everyday. If I didn’t need this job, I’d insinuate something, sir.”

“Its best you don’t.” The Officer said, toneless.

“Yes sir.” The doctor agreed dismissively and started to scribble something down on a clipboard.

Just. Breath.

A soft beeping noise filled the room, and only Madic seemed jostled by the sudden noise. He opened his eyes and looked at the group of four people in the corner, the Officer rolling his sleeve over top of a watch he was done reading. Soldine's shoulders straightened and Orangeman never stopped staring at him, his therapist was glaring at the man in a uniform but in the back of the group.

"Team of zombies, spotted in the third back alley, Weil Street, off Evo City's underbelly." He sighed, obviously not amused he has to put off something as simple as Madic's predicament for later. "Soldine, Orangeman. We're rolling out from the garage in an hour. Get ready."

"Yes sir." Soldine saluted and started to follow him out the door, escorting his counselor out as well.

The doctor beside Madic was gone as well it seemed, he knew the Chief Medical Officer was a slick and sly army medic, but it was fine with the Freak. He looked about the room freely, but his head still restrained by the rubber strap and making his neck put in work.

This is fine.

What wasn't fine, was Orangeman just staring at him from the corner of the room like he had nowhere to be but here. He had a job to do and -- obviously -- the ex-medic wasn't really apart of that. He shifted on the bed and worked out his stiff arms. Why did the CMO have to be so through...?

Probably because he worked with dangerous Freaks for a living -- supernatural or metahuman beings that can fo amazing feats -- and has patched up more humans then Madic's hit his head on the bars of his cell since arrival.

 _Now your using your head!_ He heard his imaginary counselor say in his head and felt amused that now the strange person had shown kindness to him and stuck up for him, that gained the not-doctor a place in his mental psyche.

_See, your capable of--_

"I know the food ain't great, and I know its depressin' here, mate," The man in orange finally spoke, "but ye can't just not eat."

"Why? You offering to be my meal again?" Madic smiled and remembered their fight in Madic's old lab atop the mountain nearby. It had been fun, seeing a Demoman running around his base as prey instead of... of... 

 _Families_. Teenagers camping. Men practising mountainclimbing as a hobby.

Shit...

"No, far from it, lad." The man in orange had his face scrunched up in disgust at the idea if going through that again. "Jus'... Ye had a problem mate, ye caused a problem an' now ye have to fix it..."

" _Fix_?" Madic hissed. This hunter had no idea what he was saying, obviously. "I don't have to fix anything; as you can tell from my file I left no one alive that I've meet except you and that cyborg. So, I don't think I can  _fix_ anything here."

The silence that followed after the Demoman in his track suit pulled a flask was pounding in Madic's ears. His ear's were ringing again, and he took deep breaths as he watched the Demoman swig whatever he had in his backup flask. Madic's mouth watered a bit at the memory of the beverages he used to not savor with a Spy who had offered it from so many years ago. He nearly regretted it when he found himself watching the Demoman pull the flask down to glance at him, being caught staring.

"Ay, want so?" Orangeman offered but shook it a bit to measure what he hadn't drunk. "Almost gone, could use a new brand anyway. Smirnoff isn't mah thin'."

At the mention of the name, Madic perked up. "How are you still standing after that drink?"

"Lad, if I can drink five bottles ah whiskey before passing out then vodka ain't gonna do me in with this little flask." Orangeman said, slightly prideful at that. 

"I don't believe you." Madic said in full belief that he was right. "Probably not even vodka."

"Offer still stands." And he shook his flask to symbolise he wasn't lying.

Madic looked around for the CMO and finds no one. The man was probably trying to worm his way into the mission roster to get a sight of the zombies running around in Evo City. He couldn't blame the man if he was, he had once been the same way before he learned he had enjoyed healing more then hurting. 

How  _that_ changed.

"Fine. What do I have to lose?" Madic said calmly, but felt jittery from all the nerves he had. Vodka. An outside world pleasure was being offered to him. To hell if it was a trick, he literally had nothing to lose. If he can have his head blown off, then poisoned vodka won't have any lasting effect.

"Alrighty then." The demolition expert said and walked over to Madic, seeing the twitching of the ex-medic from this luxury. 

Orangeman hated this places treatment of the Freaks. Yes, they were super powered and dangerous when not kept safely contained, but they were still needing of basic rights. Somewhere along the way, someone in the seat of command had allowed Madic to spiral into despair and not eat. And they should know to, since they have to come by and take his ration plate from Madic and someone had bound to notice.

But no. Nobody had told anyone. His counselor didn't even know what he had been going through. And the CMO had done all the connecting he needed to feel even more weary of all this prison stuff. Sure, Madic needed the therapy and they were capable of giving it to him before they let him loss again, but it needs to be done ethnically.

And Madic needs to survive this place, first and foremost. It was unlikely the HECU would change simply for one Freak already making progress towards freedom.

As Orangeman put the flask close to the restrained Freak, he barely tipped it before making a humming noise in his throat. The Madic looked at him with disdain; he probably thought Orangeman was about to use his vulnerability against him or do something else Spy would do in this situation. Orangeman tried not to get offended, because Madic has been through some devious things while in HECU.

He looked at the Freak, mind already made up long ago at what he wanted. "I'll let ye drink..." He said sweetly, shaking the bottle gently. "If ye eat everythin' they give yah from now on, and take better care of yahself. This prison is only temporary, and I see the change in ye. For better."

Madic blinked. That was unexpected. His facial features warped into an expression of sheepish discomfort. The idea wasn't unpleasant, and the thought of the liquid fire before him made him crave some food so long ago by Engineer that he felt his stomach growl heavily. Maybe he might just be fine...

Maybe he wouldn't. He didn't know how long he'd felt that hollow and aching feeling in his chest, but all he knew was every thought of who he killed or families he ruined made him gag at food, push away water, and chase away sleep to wallow in his cell till Ruben the security guard was on shift or he meet with his counselor. Was he going to be fine?

"Alright." Madic conceded. Unsure on the inside as he answered, "I accept."

"I'll take yer word on it, mate. Ye get all the rest of mah flask before I leave for the mission." Orangeman said, forcing a smile on his face. "Cheers!"

As he tilted the rim onto the Madic's lips, the vodka trickling down as slowly as the Demo can allow it to not choke the Freak and not stop pouring. The guy had to be years out of practise of handling alcohol, so Orangeman tried to be as generous as he could. 

"Chug! Chug!" He said, slightly elated at the scrunched up face of the ex-medic trying to drink it all without coughing. "Ye can do it."

And with a harsh flick of his wrist, the bottle was turned so all that was left in the bottle could no longer hide and slid into the Madic's mouth. As soon as the drops stopped, Madic turned his head to the side and coughed.

"My head..." The Madic coughed lighter now. "Is laying down. You could have drowned me!"

"Sorry!" The Demo said sheepishly, but with no regret as the Freak's face flushed from the alcohol. The flush was a familiar pink against the pale grey skin, almost making him look familiar in complexion. "At least it  _was_ vodka, right?"

"Go fight your..." Madic let out a small cough to clear his throat this time. "Zombies, Cyclops."

"Yer very welcome." Orangeman jokingly mocked and put his flask away for refilling in a bit. He turned on his heels with a small wave as his departure to the strapped in Freak.

There was no telling if Madic would listen to his request, or honor his promise from here. Orangeman just had to hold hope for the man.

Yes,  _man_. He made up his mind about the ex-doctor now, and he wasn't drunk yet. He was going to do great things, he just needed to give the man something to hope for.

Even for the simple things. Even if its slowly.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone noticed, in "Enemies of Old" Madic was contemplating his life as a whole while Dic Soupcan was in his normal drunken state. Madic was still angry enough to yell at the guy until he asked about his soup can (which nobody disrespects in fear of Dic's wrath) showing he's not perfect and his anger still lingers deep inside somewhere. But at least he got better by "Operation: Vagineer" and proved himself! My boi!
> 
> Also, I have no right idea if Orangeman even drinks as a casual thing anymore. He's still a Demoman and he's human so... maybe he drinks only when his job gets unbearable? :D


End file.
